


Five times they met randomly, plus one time Michael invited him

by TheEdster



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: 5+1, M/M, Others Mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 16:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEdster/pseuds/TheEdster
Summary: Five times Michael ran into or met Alfredo by chance, plus one time he invited him over.





	Five times they met randomly, plus one time Michael invited him

1\. In Geoff’s dining room.

  
The first time they meet, Michael stalks into Geoff’s apartment and hears people talking in the dining room. He rounds the corner expecting Ryan or Jack, not some some thin ethnic kid with wide brown eyes. A little taller than Michael, he wore jeans and a shitty band tee, and reminds him vaguely of Trevor.  
He vocalises his thoughts, and Geoff tells him the guys name is Alfredo like it clarifies something.  
“Okay, and why is he here?”  
Geoff gave him a funny look. “We're gonna trial him for a few weeks, see how he fits in with the crew.”  
Michael looked him over again, unimpressed. “Doesn't look very useful, but whatever. Where's Gavvy?”  
Alfredo lips twisted but he otherwise didn't react to Michael, just looked back at whatever papers or documents Geoff has spread across the table in front of him.  
“Alright, no need to be an asshole, Michael.”  
“What, I'm just saying! Christ.”  
Geoff huffed. “Upstairs lounge.”  
Michael didn't look at Alfredo as he turned and walked off. He seemed like a dickhead anyway.

 

2\. In the elevator.

  
The second time, it’s in an elevator, and it's awkward as hell. Michael isn’t the type to apologise to people he barely knows, so he nods at him and says nothing when he enters the elevator and finds Alfredo already inside. He must’ve been going up to the penthouse from the underground garage.  
While Michael isn’t in a shitty mood this time, he doesn’t really feel too bad about being a dick when he met Alfredo a couple days ago.  
They have about 10 floors before they reach Geoff’s level when Alfredo talks to him. Michael had zoned out, and he wasn’t expecting Alfredo to speak to him anyway, so he fumbles with the keys he was playing with when Alfredo says “Cool jacket.”  
Michael blinks at Alfredo, who kinda looks like he wants to shoot himself.  
“I mean, you know. I know it’s old, uh, but it’s cool, it looks… good. Um.”  
“Thanks?” Michael scowls, and Alfredo turns his head and stares resolutely at the elevator doors. Well that was fucking lame.  
Just then, the elevator dings. The doors begin to slide open, and Michael glances at Alfredo as he starts to leave the small space. “Uh. Bye?”  
Alfredo just nods, still not looking at him and apparently rooted to the elevator floor. Michael walks off, scratching the back of his head. Weirdo.

 

3\. In a supermarket.

  
The third time, it’s in a supermarket that’s being robbed, surprisingly not by them. There are five guys with very big guns, total overkill for a supermarket robbery, but Michael is unarmed for once so he’s not saying anything about it to them. He just wanted something for dinner. Bad guys take time off too.  
Michael is escorted at gunpoint out of the dairy aisle with an old woman, who looks comically angry for an old biddy. They’re led to a group of civvies sitting near the back of the supermarket and told to stay put. The guy who got him leaves again with two others, leaving two guards by the hostages. Michael is starting to feel his anger build at this bullshit situation when his ears pick up a low whisper next to him that sounded like his name.  
A quick glance in his peripheral and he realises that one of the guys beside him was, surprisingly, Alfredo Diaz.  
Michael sighed. Perfect. Well, at least if there were two of them, he’d have a better chance at getting out of this place. And hey, if all else failed, he could just use Alfredo as a distraction and then leg it.  
He turned his head a little more to the left, locking eyes with his sorta crew mate. He tilted his head and flicked his eyes at the armed guy standing with his back to them. He was closer to Alfredo, so it made sense that Michael would go for the other guy, a lanky dude leaning against a shelf behind them.  
He looked at Alfredo and saw him watching his guy, rolling his lip nervously between his teeth, then peaking at the dude behind them before finally looking back at Michael. He gave the barest of nods, then mouthed “When?” at him.  
Michael cast a look around the supermarket - he couldn’t see the other guys, but he could still hear them somewhere, so Michael reckoned they had just a few moments to take these idiots down before they came running. Michael didn’t know Alfredo’s skill set or how good he was, so he knew he’d have to take the gun from Shelf Guy if they wanted a chance at shooting the rest. In theory, they should have this in the bag. Time to find out.  
He looked at Alfredo and under his breath counted “Three… two… one!”  
He turned and charged at Shelf Guy, using his legs to launch him up and bringing his fist up into the guys face. Shelf Guy cursed as his head was thrown back, and Michael kneed him hard in the balls, pulling his gun away from him as the guy fell. He turned, gun at the ready, and promptly did nothing.  
Alfredo’s guy was on the floor, dead or unconscious, Michael hadn’t seen, and Alfredo fired once, twice, and a final time, taking out the last three guys with incredible accuracy. They each fell with a spray of blood and bits in a glorious display, almost like they were in a crazy action movie and not a fucking supermarket. The civvies around them screamed and cowered away from Alfredo, but to Michael, he didn’t look scary.  
His form was fucking perfect, one foot placed behind the other and shoulder width apart, shoulders relaxed, elbows slightly splayed. Michael would never admit it, but he’d always had a sort of sick fascination with firearms and good form and maybe military guys kinda did things to him, but fucking hell-  
In that brief moment, awkward, quiet Alfredo looked fucking hot.  
Michael’s brain short circuited, split between getting the hell out of dodge and wanting to stand there for another fifty years and just stare. Shit.  
His decision was made for him when the old biddy's purse smacked him in the face. “Fucking- OW! What the fuck?! We just fucking saved you!”  
“Don’t use that tone with me, you little shit! Get out of my goddamn way.” Face stormy and snarling, she waddled her way out of the group of panicking civs, whacking and nudging until she was free and setting off in a slow shamble to the front of the store. The other civs followed her lead, scrambling and running off until it was only him and Alfredo left.  
Alfredo had at some point dropped the gun. He looked up at Michael and did a weird sort of grin thing with his face. “I wonder if they’re still open? I never paid for my groceries.”  
Michael snorted, still stunned at the 180 Alfredo had just pulled. “Did you just make a fucking joke? At a time like this?”  
At Alfredo’s shrug, Michael grinned. “You just killed like four guys. I don’t think the store manager gives a _fuck_  about your groceries.”

 

4\. At a bar.

  
Fourth time they met face to face was after a mini-heist, one Michael hadn’t been part of but wanted to celebrate nonetheless. Geoff had orchestrated it with Ryan, Gavin, Jeremy and Alfredo. It wasn’t one of their big ones, not as flashy or dangerous or stupid, but they’d hit a popular jewelry store and successfully relieved the place of most of their stock.  
Michael and Jack had hung back with Trevor and some of the others, dicking around in Geoff’s apartment while waiting for them. When Plan G burst in, Gavin’s arms, hands and neck glittering with far too much gold and Geoff yelling “What’s up you cunts!” they knew it’d been a good one.  
Michael hadn’t seen Jeremy or Alfredo yet, but they were all meeting up at a bar in Vinewood. Geoff had booked the VIP section upstairs, and it gave them all a chance to relax and get plastered without a massive crowd to compete with. Even Ryan was here for once, though he still had the mask on.  
When Alfredo showed up around half past eleven, everyone else except for Ryan had a couple of drinks in them, and he came up to the bar and sat beside Michael.  
“Aye, Alfredo! Fredo, Al-freeeee-do, how’s it going? Heard you did good today, boy.” Michael slurred, beaming at him. Okay, so maybe he was quite a bit past tipsy, fucking sue him.  
“Yeah? I mean the heist went well, so.” Alfredo gave him a small smile, eyebrows creasing a little in confusion. “How much have you had to drink?”  
“Uh, you, ah, don’t worry about that, Alfredo. This ain’t my night, boy, it’s yours.” At that, Michael clapped his hand on his arm and grinned. Alfredo chuckled and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.  
“I’m actually really glad it went well today, I’ve been pretty nervous.”  
“What for? You were in good hands, not that you needed help.”  
Alfredo fiddled with his hands for a moment before answering, and Michael finished off his rum and coke. “I dunno. I guess I, uh…”  
“You were worried you were gunna fuck it up and Geoff wouldn’t keep you round?”  
“Yeah. I guess.”  
Michael snorted, watching Alfredo fidget. “Well, you didn’t, and if you haven’t noticed, Geoff’s in a pretty fucking good mood. Everyone is.”  
They looked across the room to one of the large booths, where Jack, Ryan, Lindsay and Geoff sat. Geoff and Lindsay were obviously very intoxicated and laughing their asses off at something Jack was saying, Ryan’s shoulders shaking as well. A little further was the upstairs area’s dance floor, where Gavin and some of the others danced, streaks of multicolored light cutting through the semi-darkness of the room.  
Michael waved the bartender down and ordered a few more drinks. He looked over at Alfredo when four shots were placed in front of them. “Oi.”  
Alfredo’s head snapped to him again. Despite the lack of alcohol, Alfredo’s cheeks were already a little flushed. He looked cute, in a really annoying kind of way. Michael carefully moved to of the shots towards him and picked up one of his own. “To Mr Sauce’s very successful jewelry heist.”  
Alfredo laughed, louder now that he’d relaxed somewhat, and clinked one of the tiny shot glasses to Michael’s. They tapped them on the bar before tipping them back, the chemical burn washing down Michael’s throat. He’d probably regret it later, but Alfredo needed to catch up, and Michael refused to let the man drink all on his own. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make.  
“So, Alfredo.” He paused, letting the other man order another pair of shots and a drink for himself. When his attention was back on Michael, he continued. “Where’d you learn to shoot?”  
He looked a little confused. “I just kinda started fooling around with guns growing up. Got better, started using it for money. You know.”  
Michael frowned at him. “Bullshit. You don’t get that good from “fooling around”. I saw you in the supermarket, dude. You went, like, full Rambo on their dumb asses.”  
Alfredo’s eyes widened a little. “Oh. Right. I mean, I did some professional training, I guess. I wasn’t in the army or anything. Also I’m pretty sure Rambo-”  
“Enough about Rambo. I’m not tryna pry, it’s just. You… You have, like, perfect form. You hold guns good.”  
“I… hold guns good?”  
Michael waved his hand. “You know what I mean. Let me compliment you, you fuck.”  
Alfredo laughed again, and finished the rest of his colorful drink in one long gulp.  
“Aye, there you go! That’s more like it, Fredo!”  
He put his glass down and licked his lip, a move that Michael definitely didn’t stare at. He grinned at him. “Well, thanks, Michael. Good to know I hold guns good.”  
Michael’s lips twitched as Alfredo ordered another drink. He looked good tonight, and Michael was drunk. He also couldn’t help thinking back to the supermarket - the brief flash of heat he’d felt when he’d watched Alfredo take down the thieves. He’d looked strong, confident, competent, calm. Ready for action.  
“Michael?” Michael hadn’t noticed when Alfredo had looked back at him, or when Michael’s gaze had dropped to his mouth, or when he’d gotten so close to Alfredo. He met his dark eyes, holding the contact for an eternity. Or just a few seconds. Those shots had hit him quick.  
Alfredo looked down at Michael’s mouth before flicking his eyes back to Michael’s. He opened his mouth to say something when suddenly a pair of hands grabbed them roughly by the shoulder.  
“Al-FUCKING-fredo! Gavvers! Alfredo’s over here!” Geoff slur-shouted across the room, before grinning at them wildly. Gavin’s shout of “Fredo!” carried across to them, despite the music, and then they weren’t alone anymore. Probably for the best, but Michael was still a little disappointed.  
As Gavin stumbled over the bar with a drunk Lindsay, sober Ryan and, surprisingly, Jeremy - when the hell did Lil J get here? - Michael used Geoff as a distraction to slide off his stool and move away.  
He suddenly felt off, like he needed space. A lot of space. Was the bar getting hotter? Michael fucking hoped not. Maybe it was the copious amount of booze he’d drank. Ugh.  
Suddenly the upstairs section of the bar didn’t seem as appealing as it did half an hour ago. Just as Michael moved to go down the stairs, he glanced back and saw Alfredo watching him in between Ryan and Geoff, head tilted, chewing his lip thoughtfully. He looked fucking adorable, and it drove Michael mad. He needed some air.

 

5\. In the midst of a shoot out.

  
The fifth time was almost a week later. The day after the heist, Geoff had received word from Trevor that one of their safe houses had been torched, so Michael and Ryan had gone to check it out. Probably for the best that Ryan had come, because Michael had had to take four aspirin and chug three energy drinks before he even began to feel awake.  
Turns out the jewelry store they’d hit had been in the so called "territory" of a new gang that’d recently turned up and decided was stretch of area covering several city blocks was now theirs, though none of the Fakes had heard about it. Geoff didn’t take lightly to people claiming territory belonging to the Fakes, and, well, here he was now.  
They had a plan, which was well thought out for once. They’d been preparing things all week, split between watching the stupidly named Pink Sheep (Michael and Ryan), collecting weapons (Jeremy), finding out how the Sheep had found Geoff’s safehouse (Gavin), and managing the political fallout that comes with losing anything of value when you’re one of the top gangs in the city (Jack and Geoff). Alfredo had been drifting between helping Gavin and Jeremy, and even Trevor on one occasion, so none of them had spent any real time with the rest of the crew in a while. It had all been building up to this.  
Tonight was the night that they stomped out the Pink Sheep. They’d weaseled their way into Fake territory, claimed it as their own, and burnt down one of Geoff’s favorite safe houses. Geoff was fucking furious that these nobodies had even thought that they could steal from Geoff and touch his property, and he wanted blood.  
At exactly eleven oh five, when the last members of the Pink Sheep crew arrived at their main hideout, they attacked.  
They covered every entrance, surrounding the building and leaving no chance for escape as they let loose. Bullets mowed down Pink Sheep members, bags of money and drugs, paper, wood - anything that wasn’t incredibly solid was simply ripped to shreds. After the initial bombardment, they stormed the place, moving between the mess and the machinery in the old warehouse, hunting down the remaining members.  
It was where Michael was again treated with the hot, hot sight of Alfredo using his gun, eyes fierce and dangerous. It made his blood boil, though not with anger but something else. He hadn’t seen him since the embarrassing awkwardness at the bar, but they’d started messaging each other throughout the week, in between jobs. Still, it was good to see him in person. Alfredo noticed Michael near him, and they moved together in sync, making their way forward.  
They were walking between two trucks, alert and steady as they moved when Michael decided to break the silence. “Evening, Mr Sauce. Looking chipper than ever, I see.”  
Alfredo didn’t look at him, too in the zone, but his mouth twitched in response. “Not looking too shabby yourself, Mr Jones.”  
Fucking christ. Michael shivered at the way Alfredo had basically purred his name. _I need to get laid._  
“You come here often, sweet cheeks?”  
He huffed out a laugh. “Believe it or not, but I came here looking for you.”  
Michael’s chest did a funny little twist at that, but before he could reply, Geoff’s voice came over the intercoms. “ _Alfredo, Michael, there are three guys heading your way, watch out._ ”  
Sure enough, Michael could hear rushed footfalls coming from behind them. They moved up ahead, to the front of the trucks, and hid on either side. Michael touched the side of his ear and whispered into the mic. “We got ‘em, Geoff. Thanks, pal.”  
The feet were getting closer, moving at a quick jog, and just as the first guy reached them, Michael swung his rifle like a bat, the barrel smashing hard into his face. He fell backwards, crashing into the second guy. Alfredo used the distraction to spin around the corner and into a crouch with practiced ease, barely flinching as he shot both falling men.  
The third guy had a grenade in his hand before Michael could blink. He shouted Alfredo’s name as Alfredo shot at him, but it was too late - he’d pulled the pin, and it went sailing by them as Alfredo’s bullets tore into him.  
Michael grabbed Alfredo by the shoulders before he’d even really stopped shooting, hurling him forward past the bodies and throwing himself after. They landed roughly, Michael half on top of Alfredo, and the grenade exploded behind them.  
Pieces of wood, concrete and dust tumbled over them, and his ears rang. A few bigger pieces hit his back and his head, but he paid it no mind. He opened one eye slightly, and saw Alfredo do the same - looking at him with a mix of shock, adrenaline, and something kinda like gratitude.  
Michael lifted his head and coughed, before pushing off Alfredo and rolling over. “Ow, fuck me.”  
“Ditto.”  
Michael looked over at Alfredo, who’d sat up and was looking around. Somehow, covered in dust, face a bit scratched up and looking a little worse for wear, Michael still thought Alfredo looked fucking hot.

 

+1. At Michael’s place.

  
Michael paced around his apartment. He usually stayed at Geoff’s place, but he did have his own place. And for some stupid fucking reason, four months after meeting Alfredo, and theee months after they started fooling around, he’d invited him over. Funnily enough, it had also been  three months since he’d been here last, and boy, was this place filthy when he walked in this morning.  
He’d spent the entire fucking day clothing up, opening windows to combat the stale air. He’d vacuumed, dusted, did multiple loads of washing, cleared the fridge and gone shopping, had showered, dressed, and cooked dinner since he arrived, twelve hours ago.  
He felt nervous. They’d hung out at Alfredo’s a couple times, gone out twice, and Alfredo stayed with him in his room in Geoff's apartment often, so he wasn’t sure why.  
Maybe it was the fact that this was Michael’s place. Who knows?  
Michael checked his reflection in the mirror again. He’d said semi-casual when Alfredo had asked earlier, but now he wasn’t so sure of himself. He had on a white shirt button down shirt, sleeves rolled up, and light blue jeans, but he wasn’t sure if his outfit was like, good, or _good_. He’d also combed his hair.  
Fucking hell, Michael was turning into a softie. He’d have to beat the shit out of someone next time they were on a job together, just in case Alfredo thought he wasn’t as tough as he let on.  
The doorbell rang, and Michael wiped sweaty palms on the back of his pants as he moved to let Alfredo in.  
He looked amazing, Michael thought as he swept his eyes over his form. Blue short sleeve button down, dark blue jeans, black dress shoes. Scratch that, he looked hot. He’d even styled his hair a bit different.  
Michael’s eyes made their way back up to Alfredo’s. He was grinning at him. “Why hello there.”  
“Hey. Fancy meeting you here.”  
Alfredo giggled - giggled - and pulled his arm from behind his back, holding the small bouquet of red and white flowers out to him. Michael laughed. “You got me fuckin flowers, Alfredo? You sure know how to make a boy blush.”  
He may have joked, but he was pretty sure his cheeks were on literal fire, and Alfredo wasn't fairing much better. He reached out and took the flowers, letting Alfredo follow him into the apartment as he went to go get some water for them. Alfredo whistled behind him.  
“Damn, Michael, this place is nice.”  
“I'm hardly ever here, but uh, it's a good place. It's nice, having your own space. Fuck knows we won't get any privacy in Geoff's apartment.”  
Alfredo was standing in the dining room, looking around at the knick knacks and photos on his walls and shelves. When he turned away to look at a framed photo of Michael, Lindsay, Gavin and Meg, Michael paused to appreciate how nice Alfredo’s ass looked in his dark pants. He voiced his thoughts as he came back in carrying plates and cutlery, and Alfredo laughed as he looked over his shoulder and winked at him, putting one hand on his hip and sticking his ass out to the side.  
Michael grinned at him, leaving the plates on the table and moving towards him. Alfredo turned, the laughter in his eyes replaced with something dark. Something hot. When he reached him, Alfredo moved his hands to his hips, before slowly sliding them up his chest and shoulders, linking them behind Michael’s head.  
“I'm glad you're here.” Michael said lowly, his own hands holding Alfredo’s waist.  
“I'm glad you invited me.” Alfredo replied, leaning in to mouth at Michael’s jawline. The feeling made Michael shiver and tilt his head back, and he pulled him closer, bodies touching in more places.  
It was awesome.


End file.
